Chapter 5 - THE STOLEN HEIR
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Luca stood motionless in the center of the parlor, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides.
The silver picture frame lay shattered on the floorboards, the glass crushed beneath the heavy heel of his dress shoe.
For six years, he had believed that Vanessa had suffered a tragic miscarriage while he was negotiating syndicate treaties in Rome.
He had spent months grieving beside her, holding her while she wept false tears into his chest.
He had given her everything she demanded—the engagement ring, the penthouse on Michigan Avenue, the keys to his estate.
He had allowed her family to embed themselves into his shipping ports because he believed she carried the scar of their lost child.
And all the while, his son had been eating strawberry cake in a shuttered room four miles away from his front door.
Sal stepped up beside Luca, placing a weathered hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“What do we do, kid?” Sal asked quietly, his eyes dark with ancient Sicilian grief.
Luca took a deep, shuddering breath, the volcanic wrath behind his eyes hardening into ice-cold, surgical resolve.
“We take my son home,” Luca said.
He turned on his heel and walked back into the hallway, where Leo was sitting on the floor beside me, playing with the frayed edge of my apron.
Luca dropped to one knee, holding out his arms.
“Leo,” he said softly.
The boy looked up, his little face illuminating with that pure, innocent trust that only a child possesses.
“Can I bring my dinosaur, Daddy?” Leo asked, pointing to a worn green plastic toy sitting on the telephone table.
Luca picked up the plastic dinosaur, slipping it into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket, right over his heart.
“You can bring whatever you want, buddy,” Luca whispered, lifting Leo effortlessly into his arms.
Leo wrapped his small arms tightly around Luca’s neck, resting his cheek against Luca’s wet collar.
He buried his face into the curve of his father’s throat, letting out a small, contented sigh that echoed in the quiet hallway.
Luca closed his eyes, his broad shoulders shaking with a single, silent sob of overwhelming relief.
He held his son against his chest as if he would never let him touch the ground again.
He turned his gaze down to Mrs. Gable, who was still trembling against the wall in her slippers.
“Pack your personal belongings, Mrs. Gable,” Luca ordered, his tone devoid of any mercy.
“You have twenty minutes to leave this property.”
“If you ever speak Vanessa Bellini’s name, or my son’s name, to another living soul, my men will ensure you disappear into the lake.”
Mrs. Gable nodded frantically, sobbing with relief as she scrambled toward the back kitchen.
Luca turned to me, his dark eyes holding mine with an intensity that made the breath catch in my throat.
“Emma.”
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“Wrap Leo in my dry coat from the car.”
“We are returning to the mansion.”
Sal stepped ahead, kicking open the front screen door and holding it wide against the pouring rain.
Luca walked down the wooden steps of the porch, shielding Leo’s head with his large hand, carrying his boy out into the night air.
The rain that had fallen in mourning for six years was now falling on a father who had found his blood.
Sal unlocked the rear door of the sedan, holding an umbrella over Luca and the child.
Luca sat in the back seat, holding Leo securely on his lap, pulling the heavy wool driving coat around the boy’s shoulders.
I climbed into the front seat, looking back at the two of them through the dim interior light.
Leo looked out the car window, his small fingers tracing the rain drops sliding down the glass.
“Daddy?” Leo asked quietly.
“Yes, Leo?”
“Are there big trees at your house?”
Luca smiled—a radiant, breathtaking smile that transformed his rugged, dangerous face into pure light.
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“The biggest trees in the whole city, buddy,” Luca promised, kissing the crown of his son’s dark hair.
“And tomorrow morning, you’re going to climb every single one of them.”
